Crossroad Deal
by madelinesticks
Summary: Mostly gonna be porn, this fic, but I'll try and work a little plot in too. Pairing is Dean/Crowley, probably Sam/Gabriel later in the fic. Dean makes a deal with Crowley at about 17 to rid himself and his family of Azazel, but the price is a little more than the regular. HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

Dean shifted on his feet, stepping back from the clumsily buried box. He waited, looking around. Shit, maybe the myths about demons weren't true, how fucking stupid could he-

"Why, aren't you a pretty one?" Dean turned on his heels and stared. The demon just grinned, the expression dangerous and making Dean feel like a piece of choice-cut meat.

"I ain't pretty." He muttered, a tinge to his cheeks as he thought of how often he'd been called that in bars. He was /handsome/, damn it, he wasn't a girl.

"Oh, but you are." He sounded English, the demon, and wore an expensive suit that put Dean's one to shame. "Now, what ever can I do for you?"

"I wanna make a deal." The demon snorted, removing his hands from his pockets.  
"Pretty but dim. I /know/ you want to make a deal, darling, people don't chuck a box like that in the ground by accident." Dean's tinge became a full-on blush, not helped by the demon's smirk.  
"There's a demon." He said. "Demon that killed my mom, I- I want my dad to be able to find it. Kill it." Crowley raised his eyebrows, hands going back into his trouser pockets.

"Well, mate, I'm afraid that's a tall order."  
"Please." The demon stared at him, smirk still present, but there was something more behind the expression. Something appraising.

"Takes a lot of juice to get rid of another demon, you know. Even for someone like a Winchester." Dean sputtered, but Crowley just went on. "Of course, if I were to have…" Crowley's smirk got that bit wider, and Dean shivered slightly. "Incentive, it could be possible."

"Whaddya mean?"

"More than your soul. You have a bro-"

"Not Sammy." Crowley gave a little chuckle.

"More than your soul then." Dean scowled, distrustful. "Your body, boy. From after the deal is sealed."

"I'm not gay." Dean spat. Crowley laughed.

"No." He agreed, amused. He raised his eyebrows, taking in the tremor to the boy's hands. "But you look at men, too." Dean's fists clenched and he opened his mouth to defend himself, but Crowley waved it off.

"You needn't whine your homophobia at me." Crowley purred the words, though his tone was sharp and his eyes hard. "You want your deal, you have it. I want your soul when you're dead and your body from now. I don't care if you're insecure about taking a cock - I know you like them and so do you."

Dean's cheeks were red and his hands were shaking where he'd clenched them into fists. Crowley just kept his gaze, unblinking and unwavering. He'd won, he knew that already, but it was always nice to have that last satisfaction…

Dean looked down with a soft sound, one that sounded like almost a whimper to Crowley. The hunter shifted forwards.

"And you'll let Dad see he's dead? Make it so we don't have to hunt him anymore?" Crowley grinned widely.

"Why, of course." Crowley opened his arms a little and, with a moment's hesitation of shifting on his heels, Dean darted forwards and pressed a kiss to the demon's mouth.

Dean tried to pull back after a moment, but Crowley grabbed him by the hair and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. The boy whimpered into his mouth, a hand going to his suit and grabbing at the expensive fabric but not pulling back. Crowley chuckled against his mouth, hand comfortably tangled still in his hair.

When he finally pulled back, Dean was breathing heavy and hard, eyes a little wide, pretty and bright and green. His mouth was open, and Crowley couldn't help but feel a little satisfaction as he took in the new swell to his lips from Crowley's roughness.

"You say you don't like men..." Dean gave a whined moan as Crowley grabbed at him through his jeans. "And yet look at this." The kid was half-hard at just that, and Crowley couldn't help but give a few chuckles despite the boy's indignation.

"Go home. I'll sort your demon."

It was surprisingly easy, all in all. A few lied messages, an appearance of a certain knife that Crowley had been in possession of for a little while. Azazel's vessel was a bit of a waste, he supposed - very prone to letting demons in, and more importantly, well-placed. But no, no, it had to be sacrificed.

Azazel had looked sort of poetic when he was dead on the floor. Winchester had looked absolutely pathetic, of course, sat there with the knife dangling from his hands to stare at the dead body. Crowley had pushed out a few ideas, coaxing him into going back to his boys.

Sam was sort of an odd child, Crowley thought. He wondered vaguely if he'd be able to get Dean into some deal for him, interested as he was in how smart the boy seemed, how intelligent and well-poised for development.

John bought separate rooms for him and his boys that night. Crowley was grateful for that. He slipped in when he knew Sam was asleep. Dean was in bed, but he was awake and shifting.

"Hard?" Dean jumped with a yelp and then looked to his brother. "Don't worry. He can't hear us, and he won't wake." Crowley grinned, predatory, and watched with interest at the nervous bob of Dean's Adam's apple. "I can see it, you know."

Dean crossed his legs.

"I'm not gay!"

"Never said you were. Doesn't mean you don't want my cock." Crowley was on the bed and over him in a second, clasping his wrists and pressing them above his head. Dean gave a needy little gasp.

"You like that, hmm? Being held down, unable to fight because you know how much stronger I am than you." Dean gave an adorably choked little sound from his throat, and Crowley nearly laughed in his face. "Yes, I can tell."

"Ever fucked a man, Dean?" Dean shook his head, lip quivering.

"Ain't gonna fuck you either." He muttered, but the sound was weak and it came out nearly stammered.

"No, you're right." Crowley smiled. "I'm going to fuck you." Dean tried to fight Crowley's hold but couldn't, and as punishment Crowley banished his clothes. "Oh, now." Crowley reached out with a phantom hand, the surface of it slick, and stroked over Dean's cock with it.

The boy very nearly yowled, arching into it and then remembering himself and trying to press away again. "Such a pretty cock. Bit smaller than I'd like, but lovely."

Sam shifted in his bed, and Dean tried again to scramble out from beneath Crowley. "Ah ah ah, boy, you agreed to this. I can cause you pain. Or him." Crowley looked to Sam and immediately Dean when still and pliant underneath him.

"Okay." Dean mumbled. "Sorry, no, not Sammy, don't- don't hurt Sammy." Crowley grinned.

"Going to be a good boy?" He felt Dean's hips jump against the phantom hand. Of course: he liked praise. "What do you like when you're with girls, Dean? The truth now."

"I- um- when they're rough. And they bite and- and-"

"And they're in charge, not you." Dean just stared. He gave the tiniest of nods. Crowley reached out, trying to grab at what Dean wouldn't tell him. "Oh, panties? Really?"

Dean nearly squeaked. "Don't fuckin' read my mind, man!" Crowley squeezed his cock a little hard, grabbing the boy by the hair and listening to his yelp of pain.

"I'll do whatever I wish with you because I own you, do you understand?"

"Fuck." Dean nodded though, nodded desperately as he tried to pull away from the too-tight grip of the phantom hand.

"Good. Now, you're going to give me a little performance."

"Wh-what-"

"Lean back and spread your legs." Crowley moved off the bed, conjuring himself a desk and settling at it to pick up a pen. Dean stared at him. "I have work. You're going to stroke your cock until I'm done. All for me."

Dean sputtered. "But- but I thought you were gonna fuck me?" Crowley noted impatience in his voice and raised his eyebrows.

"I will. Hand on your cock, now." Dean's hand was slow, but he obeyed, stroking over it now the phantom one had gone. He gave a muffled moan, pressing his hips up and into his own hand, and Crowley smirked a little, pleased.

This would go well.


	2. Chapter 2

Crowley, for the most part, did not pay attention to Dean as he got on with paperwork. He could hear Dean's whines and desperate sounds as time ticked on and on, leaving the boy needier and needier. Crowley had spelled him so that he couldn't come, but Dean didn't know that.

He kept trying to speed his hand, thumb over his head or his frenum in attempts to bring himself over, but all he succeeded in was making himself more frustrated.

"Please." Dean said after half an hour. Crowley looked up, surprised, and noted the wideness of Dean's eyes and his parted lips. So very pretty, but so very desperate. Crowley couldn't help but grin, pleased.

"What was that?" Dean's cheeks coloured scarlet and his expression became a snarl.

"Nothing."

Crowley's grin disappeared. He was on the bed, a hand grabbing at Dean's hair and forcing his head back so that a tiny whimper gargled from his throat. "You will tell me the truth, boy." Dean gasped as Crowley's spare hand pushed Dean's hand away to take the other's cock himself.  
"You will beg when you wish, and if you do you will be allowed to come." Dean was giving yowls at the expert twists of the demon's hand, trying to grab at his suit to keep from falling back. "You will be obedient. I have no interest in a pet that can't control himself."  
"I don't want to be your pet!" Dean growled, though the sound was high-pitched and, in Crowley's opinion, a little pathetic.

"You'd rather I hand you off to another demon? Take you from your family, let them tear you to pieces and leave you bloody and sobbing for mercy?" Dean went quiet, still grasping at Crowley's shoulder.

"No."

"No, sir."

"No, sir." There was a little sob to his voice as he said so, buried his face against Crowley's shoulder as his cock gave a new pulse. "Please, let me come." Crowley smirked a little.

"Good boy." He stroked through Dean's hair in reward as he thumbed over his cockhead once again. He let the spell dissipate, and Dean came with the loudest of moans. "That's it." He purred, letting Dean fall back on the bed in his post-orgasmic state of drowsiness. "Thaaat's it."


	3. Chapter 3

Dean jolted in bed, blinking awake as he felt the morning sun shining in through the window. He gave a soft grunt, shifting in bed. He was clean, but naked, and he moved quickly from bed to pull on some pants and a shirt, looking around almost desperately. All the same, there was no sign of Crowley, and he bit his lip nervously. "Sammy!" He called. "Get up, kid, it's almost seven!" Sam blinked awake, slowly crawling from bed and stumbling into the bathroom to take a shower.

Dean threw a few things in a bag, ready to move and go to school as soon as Sam was ready. He let himself fall back on the bed. Where was Crowley? Had he really just left Dean asleep? He hadn't even fucked him… Maybe he didn't want Dean after all. Dean wasn't sure whether he was pleased with that idea or not.  
He shifted uncomfortably on the bed, palming at his cock in his jeans. Fucking Hell, he wasn't meant to get hard at the idea of a fucking demon fucking him. He managed to get his erection down with thoughts of some of the more unattractive teachers in high school.

Sam stumbled out of the bathroom, still wiping sleep from his eyes. He was clothed already, and began to towel through his hair and get it dry. "You ready to go, buddy?"

"Mmm." Sam hummed. He was awful when he was tired, but he wouldn't wake up until he got into his classes. They walked together to school, Dean with his backpack lazily slung from his shoulder, Sam with his tightly against his back. Sam ran away as soon as they got through the school gates, and Dean made no move to pull him back. He did note a little hole in the back of Sam's jeans, around his ankle, and made a careful mental notation to try and get some money to buy him some new jeans.

He walked into the building, heading to his first class with his usual bored expression. He was ecstatic by the time classes were done with for the day. He hated being around – most of the teachers were convinced he was some stupid jock, and what was the point in trying anyway when he was gonna be a hunter like Dad? Dean shook his head, waiting at the gate for Sam. He'd had a free period last, and was out of class a few minutes early.

"Why, hallo there, lover boy." Dean jumped, startled by the sudden appearance of the demon at his side. He noticed now that Crowley was a good head shorter than him, and took an odd sense of victory in the idea.

"What are you doing here!?" He hissed.

"Why, come to see you." Crowley grinned.

"But- but someone might see-"

"I don't care." Crowley smirked. "Now tell me about today's school day, hmm?"

"What!? Get the fuck away from me, man, Sam-" Dean looked desperately toward the school entrance. It seemed the last bell hadn't gone just yet, but it would soon. "Sam can't see you." He hissed.

"Oh? And why's that?"

"He can't know that I made a demon deal! _Please_!" Crowley beamed.

"Well, if you're going to be polite about it." He disappeared without even a sound, leaving Dean staring into the space before him. The only lingering hint of the demon's presence was the scent of his sweet-smelling cologne in the air, and Dean wanted to kick himself when he found himself taking in a deep inhalation.

What the fuck? Crowley must be doing something to him, making him latch onto the things that made Crowley Crowley. Dean gave a growl of sound, kicking one of the posts on the fence beside him.

"You okay, dude?" Dean jumped, giving a sound that was almost a yelp.

"Shit, Sammy, don't do that to me." His brother raised his eyebrows at him, seeming perplexed.

"Uh, sorry, man." Sam mumbled, waving a hand. "You okay to head home?"

"Yeah, kiddo, let's head off."

"Don't call me kiddo, Dean." Sam said, tone churlish. Dean responded by ruffling a hand through the smaller boy's hair.

"I'll call you what I like." They laughed together, pushing each other back and forth on the sidewalk. Dean loved these moments with his brother more than anything else.

Dad didn't come home that night. Dean worried a little after calling for pizza, biting his lip and considering that he might not have enough money left for tomorrow. He couldn't even get a job at the local diner – no openings for any little jobs, and anything bigger needed a proper application and a firm home address. That is to say, not a motel room.

He'd turned tricks before, with cougars or desperate girls in bars...

"Don't even think about it." Crowley growled. Dean jolted, staring at the demon who'd appeared before him. Sam was out at the local library, and wouldn't yet return for a good half hour. Dean could keep that in mind at least. "You're _mine_. You're not selling yourself to some _woman_ for a cheap buck."

Dean felt his cheeks burn, and he shifted on his feet. Nobody else knew he'd ever _done _that, for God's sake, and Hell, it was embarrassing, damn it. "Wasn't thinking _cheap._" He managed to bite out, offering a smirk in Crowley's direction.

The demon remained unamused. "Boy, you even think about it again and I'll slap your arse so hard you'll be seeing stars for days." Dean swallowed, feeling a little blood run from his cheeks to his cock at the thought.

Crowley sighed. "Just a glutton for punishment, aren't you? I suppose we'll have to start training you soon." Dean stared at the demon, carefully setting the phone down.

"Training?" He repeated.

"Mmm-hmm, yes. Training. And you needn't worry about money, anyway. Your father will be home by tomorrow." Dean couldn't stop the grin that came to his lips.

"Yeah?"

"Indeed." Crowley tilted his head. "You love your father so much more than that brother of yours. Why is that?" Dean blinked.

"What? Sam loves Dad, of course he does." Crowley hummed, the sound almost dismissive. Dean wanted to argue, to ask what the Hell Crowley meant by that, but Crowley opened his mouth first.

"I'll see you later, darling. Enjoy your... Meal." He spat the last word, as if to imply the pizza wasn't that sufficient a meal. And once again, he disappeared. Dean gave a growl of frustration, nearly slamming his hand down on the table. Sam moved into the room at that point, bag on his back.

"Homework finished?" Dean asked.

"Yep."

"Awesome. Pizza'll be here in a few minutes." Dean feigned normality – Hell, what else could he do?

"Cool."


	4. Chapter 4

Crowley had been right. When he and Sammy got home the next afternoon, after school, Dad was home. He sat on the bed, his eyes rimmed with red and shadowed with the blue-black that came from a lack of sleep. "Dad!" Dean ran forwards, and John stood slowly to pull him into a hug, holding out an arm for Sam as well. His brother went that bit slower, hugging the other.

"I killed it." John said, and the broken sob that came from his father's mouth made Dean feel younger than he had in too many years. He held the other man that bit tighter as Sam pulled back, and soon enough John pulled back too, dropping back onto the bed and sitting there on the edge. "It was- I just found him and I killed him and it was so _easy._"

John laughed a little to himself, sounding exhausted. "You should sleep, Dad."

"I- I will. You know what, you boys go out. Get yourself something to eat."

"Sammy needs new jeans, Dad." Dean murmured, ignoring Sam's flushed cheeks and his embarrassment for the sake of wanting to ensure he'd be dressed alright.

"That's okay, I-" John pulled his wallet from his pocket and pushed it forwards into Dean's hand. "Spend as much as you want. You boys can get new bags, new clothes, it's okay." Dean swallowed a little, looking into the wallet. There was about three hundred dollars in bills, and Dean bit his lip. Dad was usually pretty stingy with money, wanting to make sure they'd be okay longterm.

"It's okay." He nodded again, catching Dean's eye. "Celebrate." Dean nodded. They left their father to sleep, closing the curtains as best they could, though the threadbare scraps left light in all the same. That was okay: John didn't seem to care.

"C'mon, Sammy, we'll split it each way. There's four hundred in here." Dean lied, handing out the counted two hundred dollars in bills. He trusted Sam to buy sensibly – Sam would be careful in selecting books he wanted to read, and would select clothes of the best quality he could manage for a cheapest price.

He let Sam go on his own, knowing that he'd be a lot more comfortable without Dean around as he picked out shirts and jeans and shoes. "You know, if you've got to lie to the boy to make him take more money than you, I can gather he'd not be best pleased with this little idea." Crowley murmured, appearing at Dean's back as he looked at racks of jeans.

"Sammy likes to have it split each way, but he needs it more than me. He's shooting up like a weed, and I'm not doing that." Dean muttered.

"Hmm. I would wager this little arrangement started before you stopped "shooting up like a weed"." Crowley said, and damn it, Dean wanted to punch him.

"Look, he's my little brother and I want him happy. I want him well-dressed and I want him to be able to buy the books he likes."

"At your expense?"

"Oh, shut up." Dean spat. Crowley chuckled a little. "Hmm, well. What are you going to go for?"

"I need jeans too." Dean murmured. "Why are you here?"

"I want to know what you buy." Crowley said lightly, seeming amused at Dean's indignation.

"_Why?_" Dean hissed.

"Well, I suppose it will make a marginal difference to what I buy when I have you away from your father and your brother, hmm?" Crowley murmured, and Dean gave a hiss when Crowley grabbed suddenly at his ass. "I would appreciate tighter jeans than what you usually wear."

Dena gave a short sound. "Someone's gonna see-"

"No one will see." Crowley purred, leaning to nip at Dean's neck. "That's the best part of demon magic for a nervous little bitch like you." Dean flushed, leaning back into the touch. Crowley laughed. "That's it. Now, come this way."

"No, Crowley, that's the designer stuff, it's too expen-"

"It's better made and you can take the labels out if you don't want your dad and your brother to cop on." Crowley said, waving a dismissive hand as Dean continued to talk. "Come, I'll pay for it."

"You can't buy me clothes-"

"I can buy you whatever you _or _I damn well please. Now, keep those bills and you'll be able to deal in a bit of a crisis, hmm?" Dean scowled.

"_No._"

"Yes. Argue again and I'll bend you over that mannequin stand and spank you." Dean's eyes widened.

"I'm not joking." Crowley said in a sing-song voice. Dean bit his lip, but then he moved to follow.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean shifted in the new jeans, a little nervous. Crowley had fixed up his old jeans too, clearing away the worn denim and making it fine again – just like new. Crowley was particular, and had mentioned he'd done the same to Sam's – with a glamour or two to make sure he didn't notice, of course.  
Dean didn't get it, but when he asked Crowley only spun some bullshit about not wanting anyone to see what was his through the holes in his clothes, but that wasn't it, Dean was almost certain. He just didn't understand. What did his wellbeing matter to Crowley? Let alone Sam's.  
Maybe it was just all some big scheme to gain his trust. Well, it wouldn't happen. Dean told himself that every day: he would never trust the demon. Maybe beg for his cock a little bit, but not trust him.  
Anyway, Crowley was the least of his worries so far. He had no idea what Dad was doing. For now, he'd said they were gonna stay in town for a little while longer, but he went out every day. Maybe he was trying to get a goddamn job in town, maybe he was looking for new hunts, Hell, Dean didn't even know anymore.  
He worried a little about that, but Dad was someone he trusted, at least.  
It was a week or so later that Dad came home late evening to Dean and Sammy when they were sat together, watching a marathon of Star Trek reruns and laughing at one of the English teachers together over pizza.  
"Poltergeist in Detroit, boys. Get packing." Dean didn't know why but Sam gave a laugh and highfived his brother. Huh.  
Dean had thought Sam liked this town more than that.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean hadn't been sure what Crowley would do once they were moving from place to place. He never showed up in the Impala, thank fuck, because damn it he swore if Dad smelt even the slightest scent of demon near his Baby there'd be all Hell to pay – but then, Dean guessed Crowley could handle that. So when they were driving in the Impala, he knew it was okay. He could sleep and play stupid road games with Sammy and they could talk and sing along to old rock songs and it was… Normal.  
Maybe not normal for anyone else, but for them, for the Winchester family? This was good; this was normal. Dean could laugh with Sammy and talk seriously with Dad and they could all goof off and it was brilliant. He liked this, and he fucking hoped that Crowley never wanted to take that away.  
It wasn't like Dad was the best father: Dean knew that most dads didn't leave their kids alone for days, and while he was caring he'd always been a little detached, but John had been a lot better for the past few days, and it wasn't like it was his fault anyway.  
And if he also liked getting out of the Impala, settling into a motel room when he knew that Crowley was going to see him that night? Okay, maybe it was bad that he kinda-sorta-almost enjoyed the demon's company, but it was better than wanting to off himself, right? At least he was sort of okay, and it worked.  
Crowley didn't come to the motel room that night. Dean found a note on his bed, handwriting neat and easy to read. Crowley wanted him to meet him at some fancy restaurant – no jeans, black shirt. Dean didn't wear trousers very often, so they were just a little tight on him even with Crowley's magic on it all, but even still, he did as told.  
The restaurant was damn fancy. Dean hovered a little at the door, his eyes a little wide. He'd never even been in a place like this, not even for a date with some chick, and now he was half sure they'd see the scars on his arms and the muscle and just- just sense that he wasn't exactly high class and throw him out onto the street.  
He steeled himself, about a few minutes of nervous just-standing-there and looking at the other people who went in. Then, he shook his head, and moved forwards, through the doors.  
It was a really, really nice place, lit romantically and decorated in chocolate shades with vanilla cloths on the tables, with black candlesticks and napkins. There was nice contrast in the whole design, and Dean was surprised to find himself being a little more interested in how the place was run.  
"Do you have a booking?" Dean jolted a little when he saw the man behind his little… Book, wooden… Thing.  
"Uh, I think so? I'm here to meet a guy called Crowley." The man raised his eyebrows, seeming a little amused by Dean's flustered state.  
"I wouldn't worry, boy – the restaurant isn't going to treat you badly for being a piece on the side." Dean blinked wildly, but the guy had already walked off and mimed for him to follow.  
Dean did. Crowley was smirking when they got to his table.


	7. Chapter 7

"Good evening, darling." Crowley purred, looking to Dean with amusement and a sort of satisfaction plain on his features. "Thank you, Christopher." He said to the man alongside Dean, and he moved away from the table, chuckling to himself. Dean glanced to the man as he walked back to the entrance of the restaurant, and then back to Crowley.  
"You look like a deer in front of a bear." Crowley said lightly in a quiet tone, grinning.  
"I feel like it." Dean mumbled, feeling a flushed heat seep into his cheeks.  
"Come here, sit down. And calm down, too - I can hear that little fat-soaked vessel beating in your chest." Dean gave a choked little sound, his hand moving to his chest in an automatic movement, but Crowley just rolled his eyes. "Come."  
Dean took a few nervous steps forward, slowly pulling back the chair and carefully sinking down onto it. He swallowed hard, staring down at the table with its neat cloth, carefully laid out candle and breadbasket and cutlery and plates. His eyes widened a little as he stared at the flute glass next to his plate. Was that champagne?  
"Beer, darling." Dean looked up, staring at the demon. "I guessed that you weren't exactly used to anything more." Dean couldn't stop a little chuckle that came to his lips.  
"I have had champagne before."  
"Mmm, perhaps. Only in the loosest of terms - I doubt you've ever tasted real champagne." Crowley murmured, and Dean wanted to laugh at how snooty the words sounded.  
"Now, we will have dinner, and you will eat actual food instead of a burger and chips-"  
"Fries." Dean interjected. Crowley's smile turned into a smirk, lip quirked on the one side.  
"That's sweet, boy, but don't push me. And then we will go out, and I'll take you on a little wander to a certain, charming establishment in this little town, and then you'll spend the night with me." Dean swallowed.  
"Dad and Sam are gonna wonder whe-"  
"You've gone out fucked girls before, have you not?" Dean blinked, and his cheeks seemed to burn even hotter.  
"Y-yeah, but-"  
"Then you'll brush off those questions with the excuse of a one night stand, are we clear?"  
"Yes."  
"Yes...?" Dean blinked, perplexed. Then, the thought came suddenly to his mind.  
"Sir. Yes, sir." Crowley looked pleased.  
"Good boy."


	8. Chapter 8

Dinner was a simple affair. Dean ate what Crowley ordered for him - lamb chops with some sort of oniony-potato-creamy stuff that he hadn't had before. "Gratin." Crowley had supplied when Dean had asked, and Dean had made a quiet mental note to look up a recipe and try it the next time they were in a place with a real kitchen. Those times were rare, but when they reached them he liked to cook for Sam.  
Sam was so incensed on being normal a lot of the time, and Dean liked to give him the illusion when he could. Maybe most didn't have the family meal cooked by their older brother who'd basically raised them since they were two, but it was still that family meal.  
Crowley ordered desert after that. It was a sort of soufflé, and damn, was it delicious. Dean liked chocolate at the best of times - he didn't actually eat candy all that often, so when he did it was a big treat - but this stuff was way better than anything he'd ever had before.  
Crowley ate pretty fast, but Dean was so concentrated on his own food he didn't really see the demon eat. He only knew that when Crowley's plate was clear he would fold his hands, rest his chin on them, and watch Dean. By the time they got to desert Dean was a little bit nervous, worried the demon was laughing at him, but Crowley just seemed interested.  
They didn't talk much, and Dean felt like he couldn't strike up a conversation when his demonic owner was staring at him like an exhibit in a museum, actively interested in the process of him eating. "I thought you would eat a lot faster than you do." Crowley said finally, after Dean had sat back and left his fork on the newly empty, chocolate-drizzled plate. "Whenever I've seen you eat in diners-" The word was said with a disdain that made Dean just a little uncomfortable. "You've eaten as if your stomach were empty and it was the last meal you would ever see. And yet, tonight, you eat slowly, as if all that previous lack of manners has been forgotten."  
Dean swallowed. "I- well, we're in a real fancy place and-and- I don't- didn't want to-" He trailed off a little.  
"Embarrass me." Crowley said, after a few long moments' worth of pause.  
"Um, yeah." Dean said, shrugging a little. "I embarrass Sam, sometimes, with stuff I say." He muttered, looking down.  
"Mmm, well. You won't embarrass me tonight." Crowley said firmly.  
"Yes, sir." Dean muttered. Fuck, this was pathetic. He shouldn't just accept this fucking... Master bullshit, should he?  
"It's all you can do." Crowley said lightly. "I shan't be letting you go, after all. You'd rather fight me every step of the way and be in constant pain for your efforts?"  
"I should be trying." Dean murmured.  
"No. Better self-preservation than honour for the sake of honour." Dean gave a quiet huff. "Yes, I know. Anyway." Crowley put his hand up in a quick wave, summoning the man - Christopher - from earlier. Crowley handed over a card, coloured platinum, and Dean watched the man nod. Within a few more minutes they were leaving, and Dean followed Crowley out of the restaurant.


End file.
